“I don’t know how you pretend you don’t have a blood-thirsty shadow following you around.”
Waiting for the next competition wasn’t something any of the surrounding immortals were handling well. It didn’t help that outside the walls of their mansion it had poured for the last two days. Only Vaughn, who’d already healed from the three broken ribs Kel gave him, didn’t let the weather stop him from going outside. Briana half expected he did it just to annoy Elena, who kept complaining about the wet dog smell.
Lucan had stuck close, but she’d ignored his attempts to talk. There wasn’t anything left to say. After everything else, reliving the memory of them together and the way he’d sent her away without a backward glance, had stung far more the second time around.
That alone should have been enough to temper the flames that continued to burn much too hot whenever she caught him staring at her. Twice he’d rejected her; three times if she counted their twisted deja vu moment, and still the need to mark him as her mate continued to build.
Would she even reach the end of the competition before the cat started the dark slide into madness? She’d already curbed the instinct to claim her mate for months. How much longer could her feline half endure the distance wedged between her and Lucan? Days? Weeks?
A cool tease of sun-kissed ice caressed the back of her neck. A moment later Lucan materialized in the room as though he’d sensed someone talking about him.
“See.” The huntress laughed, and lowered her arms just long enough for Briana to strike.
Wood met wood as Nessa pivoted at the last second, her leg swinging around in a vicious roundhouse that nailed Briana in the chest.
Momentarily stunned, she tightened her hand around the staff and managed to regain her balance. And then Nessa was on her, the huntress’s staff jammed against the back of her neck where a strike with the right amount of force could take out Briana’s central nervous system, leaving her incapacitated.
Nessa stepped back, helping Briana up.
He’s dying was the first thought to go through Briana’s mind. Sickly pale and a faint hue of blue to his skin, Lucan leaned against the wall. He hadn’t looked well last night, but this was the first time she’d seen him today.
Nessa’s staff connected with hers. “If I was a bigger person and dancing on snow covered mountains in hell I might actually feel bad long enough to offer him a vein.”
Focusing on the fight and not the hunger that continued to gnaw at her, she brought her staff down, catching Nessa behind the back of her heel.
The huntress stumbled but bounced right back to her feet. “I’m not the only one thinking about it.”
From the corner of her eye, Briana watched the enchantress approach Lucan. “Does it hurt?”
Lucan didn’t even spare her a glance.
“When you drink from someone?”
“If I want it to.” His eyes darkened, the wraith rising close to the surface. Likely in attempt to discourage the conversation.
The enchantress didn’t seem to take the hint. “Maybe we could work out an arrangement. We both have needs that need to be met.”
Blood for sex?
Briana’s feline half raked its claws, snarling when the distraction landed her on her back. She hadn’t even made the conscious decision to shift forms before her skin tingled with the change, bones and muscle realigning.
She sprang at Nessa.
Taken by surprise, Nessa hit the mat, pinned in place by the massive paws. Worry flashed in her eyes. “B?”
She snarled, much too close to sinking her teeth into her friend’s neck. Horrified, she backed off, bolting for the door and pausing just long enough to snap hers jaws at the enchantress.
The other immortal jumped, but wisely didn’t retreat behind Lucan, as though she knew that was all it would take to set Briana off.
Lucan didn’t come looking for her until she’d returned to her room and shifted back to her human form. Damp from the fight and the cold sweat she’d broken into when she realized how close she’d come to attacking her friend, she jumped in the shower.
By the time she’d finished, her aggression had abated, but not the feverish rush of blood pumping through her.
She’d only just turned off the water when she heard Lucan enter her bedroom, but she took her time drying off. Taking a calming breath, she emerged from behind the decorative partition that served as another illusion for a modern bathroom, complete with a ceramic tile shower big enough for an entire sports team and a massive tub.
“Isn’t it feeding time?”
Lucan’s gaze never left her face, but she could swear she felt it caress every part of her not hidden by the towel. “Maybe that’s why I’m here.”
Her insides trembled, thinking about the alley and the trace of fear that had coursed through her when his teeth had brushed her neck. More troubling though was the hot, tease of excitement that simmered low in her belly.
She picked clean clothes from the wardrobe stocked with everything in her size. “Sorry. Not interested in being your blood buddy.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “You know that’s not what I want.”
She honestly didn’t know what he wanted. He’d told her numerous times that she was better off keeping her distance, and yet he continued to keep a close eye on her. Because he still felt like he owed her brothers?
She folded her arms, waiting.
“I wanted to check on you, that’s all. You didn’t seem like yourself in the training room.”
Had he come to that conclusion before or after she nearly ripped out her friend’s throat? “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”
It was easier to believe that than have him stand there, his expression understanding, while guilt churned in her stomach. There wasn’t a single thing okay about what she’d almost done to Nessa and she couldn’t handle talking about it to him of all people.
“You looked like you did in the parking lot, with the redhead,” he added, as if she’d forgotten.
She kept her back to him. “And?”
He blew out a breath. “I should go.”
Although he looked and sounded as frustrated as she felt, she didn’t try to stop him. “Maybe you should take the enchantress up on her offer.” She made herself face him. “Unless you want to wait for the bloodlust to take over.”
“You wouldn’t have anything to worry about.”
She cocked her head. “What happened to me being the easiest to hurt?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Right.” She didn’t wait for him to clarify, and he didn’t volunteer. She turned away, then changed her mind, needing to know one more thing. “Why did you keep it? The Blade of the Black Heart.”
She’d assumed he’d returned the sword to Constantine when she’d left it behind, not wanting any reminders of her and Lucan’s time together. She hadn’t seen the weapon since that night—until Lucan had held it to Vaughn’s throat in the courtyard.
“As a reminder.”
“A reminder of…” she prompted, when he didn’t elaborate, the cat’s aggression prickling her insides.
“What I’m capable of.” About to leave, his fingers curled around the open door. His eyes, though, remained watchful, his body coiled like he was about to stride across the room and pull her into his arms.
She just didn’t know what he planned to do when he had her there.
And then he was gone, the door sliding shut, leaving her with only the tears she refused to cry.
Alone in Pendragon’s, Tristan stared at the glass in his hand, both halves of him aching for his mate. Kennedy had talked him into letting her look into Briana’s disappearance alone, insisting she’d get further with her family without him glowering over her shoulder at her brother the whole time.
As if it was Tristan’s fault her brother was an ass.
“You’re understandably stressed, but rearranging Dolan’s face for him won’t help us find Bria
na,” she’d said, then with a kiss that was more to distract him than placate him, she’d vanished.
He hadn’t wanted to let her go any more than the first time she’d crossed the veil, after she’d bargained with a Fae to save his life. If he’d known how that was going to turn out… He slumped on the stool knowing he still would have done everything exactly the same.
Whatever it took to keep his mate safe.
Pouring another drink—his fourth if he’d been keeping track—he almost dropped the bottle at the fierce rub of the cat along the inside of his skin. He pivoted, and then Kennedy was in his arms. Legs looped around his waist, she nearly strangled him with her embrace, her mouth finding his.
He fell back against the bar, holding on to her just as tight. She was back in his arms where she belonged.
Now all he needed was his sister home and life could get back to normal.
“We’ll find her,” Kennedy murmured, her ability to know what he was thinking nearly as staggering as how deep their bond had grown in just a few short months.
“I shouldn’t have been so hard on her that night.” All the signs had been there days ago, and having gone through the same sensory overload of finding his mate, he should have recognized the signs in Briana, been more sympathetic. Instead he’d fixated on why she’d kept her mate a secret.
“You just want the best for her.” Kennedy ran her fingers across his cheek, and the cat fell into a lazy purr. “She knows that.”
“And maybe if I hadn’t been such a pushy son of a bitch, she would have told me her mate was Lucan.” A fucking wraith was bad enough, but did it have to be the same one that had nearly killed Kennedy?
“Hey.” His mate tapped him on the nose, the same as she did when she wanted the cat’s attention. “I know that look. Saw it just about every time you’d walk in here and see me working behind the bar.”
Tristan ducked his head.
“If it had been entirely Briana’s choice, she wouldn’t have chosen a wraith any more than you would have a human.”
A mate had been the last thing he needed when he’d been hunting the dagger that had been used to imprison Cian. Being put in a position to have to choose between saving his brother or the mate he hadn’t expected, had turned his world upside down.
Nothing had gone according to plan, not even the amazing woman in front of him and what nearly losing her had done to him.
Her lips moved against his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Reluctantly, he eased his grip on her. “Did Dolan known anything?”
Kennedy opened her mouth to answer at the same moment the window of Cale’s office above them shattered.
A body landed in the middle of the dance floor. Cale?
They both glanced up in time to see Sorcha vault over the edge of the window and land in a crouch close to Cale.
Kennedy darted Tristan a worried look. “Did she forget who she is again?”
Sorcha stalked toward her mate, who sat up, bloodied but otherwise fine. “No, but he seems to have forgotten who I am.”
“You gave up being a huntress,” Cale challenged, pushing to his feet.
“And nothing’s changed.”
Cale shot his brother an incredulous look as though Tristan had a clue what the fuck was going on, then glowered at Sorcha. “Do you think Rhiannon gave you back the ability to flash out of the goodness of her heart?”
Whoa. Sorcha could travel from place to place again just by thinking about it? That ability had been stripped from her when Rhiannon freed Sorcha from her huntress responsibilities a few months ago.
Sorcha shook her head. “It was necessary.”
“And wiping away your memory again? Will that also be necessary?”
Tristan winced. To make sure that the huntresses—gifted with god-like powers—didn’t try to rise up against Rhiannon, the goddess made sure their memories were cleansed every hundred years, ensuring their loyalty.
Sorcha’s fierce expression softened and she took a step toward Cale. He held his ground, which Tristan had to give him credit for. Times like this, the ex-huntress intimidated the hell out of Tristan.
“That’s why you turned into a Neanderthal? You’re worried I’ll be cleansed and forget you?”
Determination warred with desperation on Cale’s face, an emotion Tristan understood completely. “I won’t allow you to be taken from me again.”
Reaching up to cup Cale’s face, Sorcha shook her head. “That won’t ever happen.”
Cale’s hands covered hers, and he tugged her close. “Locking you up seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Kennedy and Tristan exchanged confused glances, and when Sorcha looked over at him, Tristan held up his hands. “That’s a little extreme, even for me.” Mostly extreme. He’d only thought about it for a second himself when Kennedy decided he was better off staying here while she crossed the veil into Avalon alone.
“Uh-huh.” Kennedy eased out of his arms, but he kept her close by threading his fingers through hers. “Briana’s not the only one missing.”
Sorcha nodded as though that confirmed what she’d heard as well. “Nessa is missing too. And possibly Emma’s twin.”
“Isn’t the sorceress always disappearing?” Tristan asked. While trouble seemed to follow Emma, Elena created it.
“She was supposed to visit her mother at the Fae court and didn’t show.”
Kennedy tipped her head up to meet Tristan’s gaze. “It can’t be a coincidence they all disappeared around the same time.”
Meaning he needed to stop assuming the wraith was responsible for Briana’s disappearance. It hadn’t helped Lucan’s case that no one had been able to track him down either. Not unusual according to Sorcha. Rhiannon was known for assigning them tasks that could take them to the most remote parts of Earth or Avalon for months, even years at a time.
“Did you hear anything about the Gauntlet?” he asked. Emma had told them about the symbol Briana had been drawing and what it might mean. The thought of his sister in a death match…
Kennedy squeezed his hand.
Sorcha sighed. “Rhiannon says that if it’s happening, we won’t know until it’s over.”
“And she can’t find out?” Cale asked.
“No one makes her do anything she doesn’t want, but we’re not the only ones talking about the Gauntlet. Or the next campaign.”
“That’s why she gave you your powers back,” Cale guessed, still not looking happy about it.
Anger rose up in Tristan. “So if Rhiannon won’t help, who else would know more about the Gauntlet?”
Sorcha winced. “There may be someone, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
Chapter Ten
“Welcome to your next challenge,” Maeve’s voice rose like the sing-song call of the birds waking to the early morning in the forest behind them.
Briana shivered beneath the cool breeze, unsure whether the goose bumps crawling across her skin resulted from the weather or the location. In front of her loomed a dark, cave-like entrance to the catacombs, the monstrous opening poised to devour them.
She took an unintentional step back, drawn to the familiar scents of Avalon behind her.
Home.
The cat wanted to pad through the dewy grass and slink into the trees. The pull of it, a sharp longing to prowl the forest, dart over fallen limbs or take to the trees, tugged low in her abdomen.
She glanced over her shoulder, noticed the same considering look on Vaughn’s face. Kel’s as well. The dragon glanced her way, not bothering to hide his uneasiness in the shifting of his stance.
Every instinct warned Briana to be anywhere but here.
Intent on listening to the rules, she focused on the goddess, who hadn’t appeared since the start of the last competition. Although they’d remained absent, Briana had no doubt Maeve and her brother were fully aware of everything that transpired in the house. They’d probably taken notes, planning on using what they’d l
earned to further complicate subsequent challenges.
Lucan’s arm brushed hers, and the tension coiling within the cat eased a bit. She felt his eyes on her, but kept her attention fixed on Maeve and the mouth of the cave she imagined was about to slam shut, deeming them unworthy of entering.
“Who’s the old dude?” Vaughn murmured, nudging her other arm.
Curious, she watched a man close to a century old shuffle forward. Human and slave-born, she realized, noting Morgana’s brand on the man’s arm. Shockingly white hair fell into the man’s eyes, his skin dark and weathered. The swollen joints in his hands curled around a walking stick.
He moved with the awkward gait of someone who didn’t trust their cane to keep them up, but something about the movement felt…exaggerated.
“This is Graegor. He will be your guide into the catacombs.” Maeve waited for the man to join her, her eyes narrowing as he paused in front of the entrance and bowed his head for a moment.
Praying?
Once he stood next to Maeve, she continued, a slight pout in her tone. “You will stay with Graegor and not explore any of the other chambers or tunnels, unless you wish to be left behind. Inside, one of you will retrieve the Scroll of Nogard. When the scroll is read aloud where I’m standing, the competition ends and you will again be returned to the mansion.”
It couldn’t possibly be as simple as it sounded.
“This way.” Maeve motioned everyone to the entrance. She handed Graegor something that looked a lot like the gemstones from Tintagel castle. Briana stopped. Why would Maeve give the Eyes of Afanc to Graegor?
Oblivious to Briana’s scrutiny, the goddess disappeared and Graegor limped over to lead the way. Once he crossed the threshold of the entrance—one of hundreds to the catacombs—his spine seemed a little straighter, his step more confident.
He glanced back only occasionally, his gaze straying to the Fae each time. Curious, she kept Bran in her line of sight. Did the two men know each other?
Presented with more questions and few answers, Briana stuck as close to the pair as she could as the passageway ahead narrowed and branched off. They stayed to the middle path, winding around corners, the ceiling low enough they had to duck in places.
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